


Be Your Alpha if You Wanted

by sarahyellow



Series: OmegaHouse [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Discrimination, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Period Typical Attitudes, Scent Marking, of a minor OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyellow/pseuds/sarahyellow
Summary: Another look into the lives of Steve Rogers and James (Bucky) Barnes at the Brooklyn Heights OmegaHouse. Steve and Bucky are still diametrically opposed.Takes place afterIn Equal Measureand beforeWhat the Doctor Ordered





	Be Your Alpha if You Wanted

Midday is usually a slower time at Murphy’s bookstore. So Steve is taking the opportunity to get some busywork done. He’s up on a footstool, stocking copies of one of their latest best-sellers—the wartime account of an omega soldier who’d managed to sneak his way into the European front nearly a decade ago. It’s on Steve’s list of books to buy, but he’s waiting until he’s got a little more spending money. 

His attention is drawn away from his task by the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Excuse me,” a voice says, “Do you work here?” The voice belongs to a man—alpha, by scent—and Steve puts on his customer service face.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you find anything?” The man looks Steve up and down in a way that makes him instantly uncomfortable, and he straightens his spine. “Maybe this?” Steve points to the books that he’s been arranging for display. “It’s very popular right now. Supposed to be a good read.”

The man takes one look at the title and snorts. “No.”

Steve frowns. “Okay. Well I can—”

“I need to get a book for my girl,” the man interrupts. “Some cookbook or other. Uh,” He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and looks down. “ _The Domestic Woman’s Cookbook_.” He looks up. “You got it?”

“I don’t know.” Steve hops down from his stool. From the new height he can see that the alpha is at least six inches taller than him. “We have a whole section on cookbooks. Let’s go look.” He starts walking down the aisle, but before he’s even made it out of the biography section he feels a hand on his shoulder. He flinches, the sunburn under his shirt stinging where the man’s grabbed him. “What are you doing?” he hisses, trying to pull his arm away. Luckily the man lets him go. It’s no matter though. Steve is properly incensed. “Please don’t touch me.”

The man smiles apologetically. “Sorry doll”—Steve grits his teeth at the familiar word—“Just wanted to ask what you’re doing working all alone in here.” He stares at Steve’s neck, where there is nothing but smooth skin showing over the collar of his shirt. “Not exactly proper, with you not being bonded or anything.”

Steve feels heat rush to his cheeks. _Okay_ , he thinks, now this conversation has reached completely inappropriate levels. “That is none of your business. Now are you interested in getting your book or not?” His friendly customer service voice has gone out the window.

The man frowns. “Hey now. Is that how you talk to paying customers?” 

“Only ones like _you_.”

The alpha looks shocked, as if he’s never been spoken to by an omega like this in all his life. But the shock bleeds out of his face and what’s left is an affronted scowl. He raises his chin. “I’d like to speak to your manager,” he says.

Steve feels dread fill his gut. He’s already gotten into it with one rude customer this month. Another unhappy customer might spell some sort of disciplinary action for him. Mr. Murphy is an Irish beta who’s one of the few business owners in the neighborhood to readily hire omegas, but after nearly three years of putting up with Steve’s not-always-suitable temper, he’s not very far from being fed up. Steve knows another infraction won’t bode well for him, and he’s terribly sorry that he didn’t just keep his mouth shut. “Uh, look mister…”

“Uhn-uh,” the man growls, pushing Steve back toward the bookcase and trapping him in by his arms. “I don’t put up with uppity shop boys like you. Where’s your manager?”

“Right behind you,” someone says. 

Steve recognizes the voice instantly, and his eyes go wide.

The man releases Steve and turns around to see who’s spoken. “You?”

James nods. His face is solemn. Steve wonders why the heck James is pretending that he’s his boss. He wonders why James has come to the bookstore at all. Steve’s never seen him here before. “What seems to be the problem?” James asks.

“Well this kid’s been very rude to me,” the man says, pointing Steve’s way. “He’s got a horrible attitude.”

James looks over at Steve. He looks displeased. “Mm,” he says. “Yeah he’s been a real problem case lately.”

Steve scowls and the man huffs. “Well why don’t you just fire’im?”

“I can assure you sir, Steven will be properly reprimanded. Now, for all your trouble today I’m going to offer you a free book, how about that?” 

Steve stares at James like he’s grown a second head. The man, however, looks somewhat appeased. “Oh well, yes. Thank you. I was looking for this one book for my girl.”

“No need for thanks,” James simpers. “It’s the least I can do.” He turns his head and glares at Steve. “Well? I’m sure this man has more important things to do then to watch you gawking. Go and get the book he was looking for!”

Steve startles, but he quickly turns on his heel and makes a beeline for the cookbook section. 

The entire time that Steve is tending to the rude customer, he’s acutely aware of the fact that James has not moved from his spot in the non-fiction section. The little bell over the door pings happily as the man leaves with his book, and Steve quickly turns around and goes over to where James stands looking, of all things, smug. Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What’s that about, huh?”

His eyebrows raise. “What? You mean how I helped you out just now?”

“You call that helping?” Steve waves his hand. “You can’t just hand out books for free. This isn’t the library.”

“Oh really? Hmm, I thought it was.”

Steve steps further into James’ space. “Look here: If Mr. Murphy finds out that you—”

“If Mr. Murphy cares so much about where his books wind up then maybe he should show his face at his own bookstore once and a while, huh?” 

Steve pauses, frown still on his face. “Wait, what?” It occurs to him to wonder how James would even know about Mr. Murphy’s common absences. He gives the alpha a suspicious look. “You keeping tabs on me Barnes?”

Something amused lights up in James’ eyes, but if it’s enough to kickstart a smile he manages to keep it hidden. “Don’t flatter yourself Rogers.” He reaches over Steve’s shoulder and plucks a book off the shelf. “I’m here to pick up a new book. Even us dumb House alphas read, you know.”

Steve is about to make some cheap retort about how he hadn’t known James’ hobbies extended beyond fucking and doling out corporal punishment, but before he can get the insult out he realizes that the book James has selected is that new best seller— _Omega War Hero_. “ _You’re_ going to read _that_?” he asks incredulously.

“Yep.”

“Hmph. Would’ve thought that sort of thing went against your world views.”

“Smartass,” James says. “You don’t know anything about my world views.” He tucks the book under his arm. 

Steve’s got his mouth open to argue that point, but before he can James is tapping him on his sunburnt nose. Steve flinches instead. “Ow! Hey, whad’ya do that for?” 

“You spent too much time in the sun yesterday,” James is chiding. “Your pale ass should know better.”

“Yeah well my pale ass isn’t any of your business,” Steve snaps, fingers touching gingerly at his nose. It’s a minute before he recognizes what he’s said, but when he does his eyes go wide. He looks up at James in mortification. The last time the alpha had had anything to do with Steve’s ass, it’d been to spank it red. Probably redder than Steve’s nose is now. From the intimate look that James is currently giving him, Steve can guess that he’s thinking something along the same line. Steve feels heat gather in his cheeks and it has nothing to do with sunburn. “Come on,” he says, needing to get away from the awkward situation he’s just placed himself in. “I’ll ring that up for you.” 

.oOo.

The next Sunday is just as much of a scorcher as the previous weekend had been, and Steve sits the entirety of mass in the omega section of the church, sweating through his dress shirt. It’s a relief when, after communion, he can hightail it out of there. He returns to the house, intent on going to the public pool with Clint and Quill like he had last weekend. His sunburn has healed by now and it’ll feel wonderful to take a dip in the cool water. 

He’s on his way past James’ office, ready to strip out of his sweaty Sunday clothes, when he hears his name called out. Steve’s eyes slip shut. _Ugh_. “What is it?” he asks James, not even turning to look in his direction. 

“Bond reinforcement Rogers. Your turn.”

Steve huff but turns and goes into James’ office. He’s sitting at his desk, and Steve’s eyes flick to the copy of Omega War Hero that’s sitting on the edge of the desk. It’s dog-eared and bookmarked about half way through. An odd feeling pulls through Steve at the sight of it, at the realization that James, of all people, has had the inclination to read it. _Huh_.

James must notice him staring because he offers, “You can borrow it if you like. When I’m done.”

Steve’s first inclination is to reject the offer, but he figures this way he can save his money. “Okay,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” There’s a little metal fan blowing air in James’ direction—the House has shitty air-conditioning. It makes his scent whir about the room and Steve has to studiously ignore how pleasant he finds that. “Come on over here,” James encourages, and Steve is reminded of why he’s here.

Bond reinforcements happen every other Sunday. Much more than two weeks, and the tentative bond that the Hall alphas have on their charges would dissipate. Steve hates bond reinforcement days. “Can we make this quick?” he asks, going around the desk to James’ side. “I want to get to the pool.”

James ticks his eyebrow up. “You going to be more careful of getting sunburned this time?”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” James says, leaning forward in his chair. “I asked if you were going to be careful. I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. He can’t rightly be annoyed, even if it _is_ James. “I’ll be careful,” he winds up mumbling.

“Good.” James seems satisfied, _smells_ satisfied. Steve isn’t above noticing how much he’s picking up on the subtleties of James’ scent. Sensitivity to his alpha like that’s probably a sign that he’s close to heat. The thought makes Steve want to cringe. No doubt James has his cycle tracked somewhere. Maybe he can even smell it on him. Steve hopes he won’t say anything about it today. “Come here.” James gestures for Steve to step closer, and Steve does. With James sitting in his office chair and Steve standing, he’s only a few inches taller than James. His hands find Steve’s hips and pull him closer, so that he’s standing between the spread of James’ legs. It makes Steve’s breath catch but he doesn’t resist. If he hadn’t done this before he definitely would’ve pulled back. “Here,” James says, offering his wrist first. It’s not customary for the omega to be the first one to scent, but James knows how stubborn Steve can be, and he’s long done it this way as a small show of respect. Steve has never thanked him for it.

He takes James’ wrist in his hand and brings it to his face, smelling the fragrant alpha scent that pulses just beneath the skin. It smells glorious, calls out just perfectly to Steve’s inner omega. It almost makes him want to whine and, this close to his heat, to present; but he’s always managed to hold back from doing the former and he’d _never_ do the latter. Steve takes James’ wrist and rubs it along his cheek, then his neck. It’s an intimate thing to do and it makes him blush. The blushing isn’t something he’s ever been able to hold back.

James leans in and takes Steve by the shoulders. He puts his face into the juncture of Steve’s shoulder and jaw and inhales him. If Steve knows anything, he knows when an Alpha is enjoying his scent, and James is taking far too long to get on with things. He huffs in his throat and says, “You gonna do it or not?”

James chuckles, the sound rankling Steve’s pride. “Calm down.” He rubs his cheek against Steve’s neck, the turns his head minutely so that he can press his lips there. They rub along the skin, up and down, until they settle right over the bonding gland. He kisses it, licks it, then nips at it lightly, and Steve feels his knees go weak. James chuckles again and holds Steve up by his upper arms. “Easy there.”

Steve growls low in his throat. James takes a long moment to manually stimulate Steve’s gland with his fingers, eliciting goosebumps all over Steve’s body. “You done?” Steve grits. He needs to get out of the office, _now_. He can feel himself starting to get wet and he doesn’t want to stick around long enough for James to notice. 

“Yeah,” James says, releasing him. Steve breathes a sigh of relief and makes to head for the door. “One more thing Steve,” James says.  
Steve turns back around. “What?”

“…You’re close. Can you tell?” 

Steve clenches his teeth. They both know what James means by ‘close’—he doesn’t’ have to say it. “Of course I can tell,” he snaps. “Can I go now?”

“I want you to reconsider pairing,” James tells him. His eyes are serious, not looking away.

“What, with you?” Steve tightens his lips. “I told you I don’t want to.”

“It can be with anyone,” James says, though he does look slightly hurt at Steve’s reminder of his dislike for him. “I just worry that you’ll put your body through undue stress if you try to ride it out alone again.”

Steve has endured six more heats since his first one, six more four-day periods of sweaty, aching agony in the infirmary’s heat suites. He’s managed to hold on to his sanity enough to refuse pairing each time. Each cycle seems to be becoming more taxing on his body however, and the idea that soon he won’t be able to resist an alpha scares him. “I’ll be fine,” Steve says shortly. He turns to go, though he does hear James’ frustrated exhale as he walks out the door.

.oOo.

Steve has just grabbed his towel and sunglasses, and he’s heading down the hallway in his swim trunks and t-shirt when he hears laughter coming from James’ office. He stops short of the doorway, lingering along the wall. It’s Darcy who’s laughing, presumably at something that James has said. Steve rolls his eyes. Everyone but him seems to be able to get along just fine with James. Even Clint and Quill, who are often in trouble, don’t hold the same resentments towards their Hall alpha that Steve does. 

Whatever had Darcy laughing is over. Steve can hear her voice clearly from around the corner. She’s saying,

“Now I’m all stunk up like you for another while.” She says it lightly, as if it’s funny and not annoying. “Say, you’re scent-marked to over a dozen omegas.”

“Yeah.”

“Well what the heck do people say when they get a whiff of you? You know: out in the real world?” She sounds genuinely curious, and Steve is surprised to find that he is too. This is something he’s never thought of before.

James is answering her. “People are usually too polite to say anything, but I get a lot of weird glances when I’m out and about, yeah.”

Darcy snorts. “You think people think you’re running a brothel?” It’s clear from her tone that she’s only kidding, but James’ lackluster chuckle is, well, lackluster. 

“I don’t know Darce, nobody’s ever confronted me with it. Let’s just say I don’t have much luck with dames and fellas.”

“Oh.” 

Around the corner, Steve is frowning. He hadn’t thought of that; how James’ work as a House alpha would affect something as personal as his dating life. “Yeah,” James is saying awkwardly. “Can’t exactly meet people or get married when you’re bonded to over a dozen omegas, like you said.”

“Huh, well that stinks.” Darcy sounds sorry for Bucky, and Steve is surprised that he kind of feels sorry for him too. Darcy says something else to James, but Steve has pulled himself away from the wall. He doesn’t want to waste any more of his afternoon in the House. He’ll take the other exit out of their hall so that he doesn’t have to walk past James’ open office door. He may feel sorry for Bucky, Steve thinks as he leaves, but at least Bucky has the choice to stay or go. Nobody’s forcing him to be their Hall alpha. Putting it from his mind, Steve goes outside and steps into the sunshine, ready to enjoy his day at the pool and forget all about his alpha and his own impending heat.

.oOo. 

That Wednesday, Steve’s heat hits. He wakes up as he has multiple other times, laying in his bed in a puddle of slick. It’s sticky and uncomfortable and Steve hurries to shuck off his soiled pajama pants. He gasps out loud when he sits up in bed, a sharp series of cramps rolling through him. A quick glance over to the other side of the room shows that Clint has already left for the day and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. One of the only things that Clint ever gets annoyed at him for is when Steve kicks him out of the room for ‘private time’, especially if Steve’s near heat and “should just be going to a heat suite anyway,” as Clint would say. 

He gets up and throws on his robe and hurries out into the hallway just long enough to get to the communal phone. He calls his teachers at the University and tells them he’ll be out for at least two days. In reality it’ll almost certainly be closer to four or five, but nobody ever said Steve couldn’t be hopeful. He calls Mr. Murphy next and explains the situation with heated cheeks. The man is just as understanding as ever, though Steve does detect a slight hint of annoyance in his tone that’d been lacking in Professor Odinson’s. Steve can’t exactly blame him, since he _does_ depend on Steve to show up to run his bookstore. Steve’d been a late bloomer when Mr. Murphy had first hired him and Steve suspects that Mr. Murphy had though—like many people had thought—that he’d just never have a heat due to his poor health. But now Steve’s clearly come into his own as an omega and is having regular cycles, and he just isn’t sure how much longer his boss is going to put up with that. 

Putting the worry that he might eventually be fired from his mind, Steve returns the phone receiver to its cradle and hurries back to his room. It won’t do for him to be caught out here, dripping a puddle of slick onto the floor.

Steve isn’t unrealistic. He knows that he’ll eventually have to haul himself over to medical to spend his heat in one of the specialized rooms that the House provides for that. But he’s really not in the mood to be bullied by whatever nurse in on duty. They’ll tell him how crucial it is to pair, remind him of all his choices of who’s on call, and that, had he been smart enough to sign up _earlier_ , he could’ve had his pick. No, Steve thinks as he arranges himself on a spot that isn’t wet on his bed, he isn’t ready to face that. He’ll hide out here in his room just a bit longer, enjoy his privacy while he still has it. 

Relaxing back into the covers, Steve focuses on the way his body feels, trying to take deep, calming breaths to soothe himself. He’s already running hot, that much he can tell without having to put a hand to his forehead. The soft terrycloth of his bathrobe isn’t itching his skin, _yet_ , but it is making him all the hotter, so he shucks that off and lets the not-cool-enough air of the room surround him. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, on the steady thump of blood that he can feel pulsing underneath his scent glands, making them swollen and likely tender to the touch. He doesn’t reach for them though, not yet. That’ll only drive him into a frenzy, desperate enough to need the amenities that only medical can offer him. Instead, Steve inches his hand down the flat plane of his stomach. He pushes his fingers through the curls at the base of his cock and flexes his fingers around it. It’s already standing at attention at this point, and Steve is eager for the first few orgasms—the ones that he can eke out before the pleasure becomes more torture than release.

Slowly, savoring it, he wraps his fingers around himself in a tight grip. He pulls upwards, watching the way the foreskin gathers at the tip, before pulling back down. He repeats this in slow, tight strokes, until the wet, red tip of his dick peeks through and the skin pulls taught over the crown. He flicks his thumb over the tip and hisses through his teeth at how good it feels. Already, he’s leaking precome onto his fingers. The clear fluid is less viscous than his omega slick, but it still eases the way, making the slide of his hand up and down his cock that much more fluid. It feels heavenly. 

With his eyes closed, Steve starts to fantasize. He thinks of the one sexual experience that he’s ever had with another person. With Adam. Steve can still picture Adam’s face perfectly—his almond eyes and dark hair. He’d been small like Steve, a fragile omega, but he’d had stamina where Steve had not. Had been the one to instigate the touches between them back before Steve could fully understand how desperate a heat could make you. 

Steve runs one hand up to pinch and squeeze his nipples. He tries not to feel guilty for imagining Adam like this. Hopefully he wouldn’t have minded. 

Because you see, Adam had been queer. He’d preferred other omegas, hadn’t craved the large, hard bodies of alphas so much as the smaller, softer forms of people just like him. That’d been what had him crawling into Steve’s bed one night, when the pangs of a newly-formed heat were rolling over him. 

Steve cries out softly at a particularly strong contraction of his ass. He can feel slick rush out of him, wetting the bedsheets and making staying clean a hopeless endeavor by now. He just continues to fist his cock and rub his other hand all over himself, taking pleasure in the relief it brings. He remembers that time with Adam, how the other boy had pulled back Steve’s blankets and basically laid on top of him, grinding their hips together with a needy whine. “Steve,” he'd said, licking and sucking persuasively at the gland on Steve’s neck—the one Steve’s ignoring now—Steve please, please can we?”

Steve had known, of course. Had known about Adam’s forbidden proclivities. Everyone on the hall had. Where it might’ve been a shameful secret out in the real world, in their hall everybody had been kind enough to keep the secret safe. Brock had still been their alpha back then, and everybody knew that Adam’s orientation wouldn’t have been tolerated by an alpha like him. 

Steve didn’t know if he was the first omega on the hall that Adam reached out to. Still doesn’t know, even as he lies here in his bed fantasizing about that charged sexual experience the two of them had shared. Steve doesn’t consider himself queer by any means, but there was just something so intoxicating about that night when Adam had snuck into his bed and begged him for pleasure. It’d felt good, to help Adam feel better, and Steve himself had come spectacularly about five different times. Sure, neither of them had been able to knot the other, but when Adam had grabbed Steve’s hand and begged for his fist, Steve had obliged. 

Steve speeds up his strokes now, hips thrusting harder into his fist as he remembers the sight that’d been his fist sinking into Adam’s drenched hole. He’d felt Adam’s body lock onto him as if his hand were a knot, had lied on top of him and soaked up his wails of pleasure with his mouth and jerked himself off onto Adam’s stomach as they both spilled over and came. 

Steve gasps, feeling his orgasm draw up on him in a violent rush. “Oh!” he nearly shouts, entire body clenching with the vicious feel of it. “Oh my god!” His free hand rushes up to his neck without permission, fingers practically squeezing the gland there. And that does it. Steve’s body goes taught as a bowstring and he comes all over his chest and belly. 

Then, when his body sinks back to the bed and his muscles relax, the rush of blood that has left his head makes him go fuzzy-eyed, and his body feels a little colder, and he passes out.

.oOo.

“Oh my god. Steve? Steve! Stevie wake up.”

Strong, capable hands dig under hisf shoulder, lifting him up and making him feel weightless. The smell of alpha is _right_ there, and Steve groans blearily into the warm chest that he’s cradled against. “Alpha,” he says loosely, before passing out again.

.oOo.

Days later, Steve’s heat has finally subsided. He’d tried to get out of bed that morning and sneak out of medical, but the nurses had quickly stopped him and called James. Now Steve’s handcuffed to the bed with an IV in his arm, and he’s none too happy about it. He presses the call button on the little bedside table for the umpteenth time that hour, and the nurse pokes her head through the door, exasperated. “ _Yes_ , Steven?”

Steve grunts. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

For a second it looks like she doesn’t believe him, but she does give in and come over to let him up. Steve rubs his wrist obviously where the cuff was, even though it’s lined in soft fleece and they both know it didn’t hurt him. “Thanks,” he says, not sounding very much like he means it. He pads over to the heat suite’s little bathroom, wheeling his IV stand along with him, and shuts the door to take a piss. When he’s back out in the room, the nurse has gone and James has taken her place. He’s standing there in the doorway, looking handsome as ever and holding his copy of _Omega War Hero_ in his left hand. Steve scowls. “What do you want?”

Bucky looks calmly at him. “Just came in to check on you.” 

“I’m fine,” Steve says. He goes and sits on the bed, swinging his legs back up on to it. He’s only been given a flimsy hospital gown to wear, and so he pulls the bedsheets up higher to cover himself. “When the heck can I go?” he asks. “I’m going to have so much work to catch up on, and I’ll be lucky if Mr. Murphy doesn’t fire me for being gone so long.”

James shakes his head. “You let me handle Mr. Murphy. You need to stay here and rest.”

“What I need to do is get back to my job!” Steve spits. “Instead you’ve got me trapped in here, _strapped_ in here, hooked up to machines and wasting my time away. _When_ can I go?”

If James is greatly bothered by Steve’s tone he doesn’t show it. That’s the infuriating thing, really. He comes over and sits on the edge of Steve’s bed, and Steve tries to inch away without being obvious about it. “You went in to shock, Steve,” Bucky says, looking imploringly at him. “Your blood pressure dipped dangerously low.”

“Yeah they told me.”

“You could have _died_.” Bucky sounds very upset, but not in an angry way. His eyebrows are pinched close together in a way that makes Steve distinctly uncomfortable. 

“I’m fine now,” Steve insists, though it comes out weak. 

But Bucky only shakes his head, looking dismayed. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he says. “You can’t keep putting your body through this. The strain of an unfulfilled heat? Your body’s not made for that. Please, let me put you on the list to pair.”

“I can’t,” Steve insists. “I just can’t. It isn’t right.” 

Bucky scoffs in frustration. “Jesus Christ Stevie, why do you have to be so damned stubborn? I mean everyone pairs. Literally everyone. Even Adam paired!”

Steve’s eyes shoot up in surprise. He hasn’t heard anyone in the house speak Adam’s name in the last month and a half. Not since... Not since the black mourning banners went up. “You knew about him?” Steve asks quietly.

Bucky softens. “Of course I did. And Steve, even he knew that biology isn’t something you can fight. HE wasn’t willing to risk his health like you. And he wasn’t sick like you besides.” He reaches over and places his hand atop Steve’s own, the difference in the size of their hands obvious. “They told you what’ll have to happen if you refuse again, right?”

Steve frowns. “Yes.”

Bucky tilts his head. “Is that really what you want?”

“Of course not!” Having his heat medically fulfilled doesn’t sound one bit better than pairing. Not if the way the nurses had described it to him is anything to go by. But Steve isn’t going to admit that. He flops back into his pillow, feeling tired and defeated. “I just want to get out of here,” he says. “It’s not like I wouldn’t be willing to pair. I’m not fundamentally opposed to it.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Oh really?”

“Yes, _really_.” Steve folds his arms. “I would be glad to pair if I could be independent. Live on my own— _not_ in the House. I could have a relationship and choose someone on my own and—” 

“That’s not going to happen and you know it Steve.” Steve scowls at him for cutting him off, but Bucky continues, telling him, “You’re too stubborn. Too damned idealistic for your own good, you know that?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ve seen what men can do Steve! _You_ haven’t. You don’t have any real-world experience and yet you go around talking like you know exactly what you could expect in the world. You don’t.”

“Well who’s fault is it that I don’t have experience?!” Steve all but yells back.

Bucky doesn’t yell though. He just shakes his head. “You expect too much from the world, too soon Steve. You’re never going to get out of this House if you don’t realize that change comes gradually.”

“Pft.” 

“Allowing yourself to be properly cared for during heat doesn’t have to mean that you’re giving in to ‘the man’, or whatever terrible surrender you imagine it is.” 

“Oh,” Steve jabs out, “And I suppose you’d still like to be the one to do it, huh? Pair? _Bond_?” He scoffs, tossing his head at the idea of it. 

Bucky winces at Steve’s tone, but he tells him, “You frustrate the hell out of me Steve, but I meant what I said. I’d be your alpha— _your_ alpha—if you wanted.” He doesn’t say anything more after that, just gets up quietly and leaves the book he’d brought on the bed. “Thought you might want to read it,” he says quietly, then walks out of the room.

Steve is left to feel sick that he’d scoffed in James’ face over the whole bonding thing.


End file.
